


truce

by tusslee



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I have no excuses, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Masturbation, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9286958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tusslee/pseuds/tusslee
Summary: The morning light,Saeran thinks,makes her glow. Her eyes hold galaxies, which may just be the only thing he likes about the night. Saeran reaches for her hand, feels like maybe she is just enough reason to try, and sighs when her fingers thread through his.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> these chapters are not quite related, but hold the same idea of an unrequited love bc apparently I can't just leave well enough alone and give Saeran a happy ending like he so deserves

_Love_ , Saeran thinks, _isn’t something he expected to find here_.

She is the embodiment of all things kind and perhaps he doesn’t understand her sense of humor _at all_ , but he really likes her laugh and he thinks that’s close enough. 

He supposes he shouldn’t really get ahead of himself because she is not his to desire, to look at in any other light aside from something like “sister-in-law”, or almost. 

Saeyoung has laid claim, but that knowledge alone is not enough to force his feelings into something smaller, or something simpler.

Not that love is inherently complicated or complex, it’s much like any other line of code or useless puzzle, but it’s her he has a hard time figuring out.

It’s difficult because she is an open book and yet it’s as if he’s illiterate because the words written on her skin are in a language he doesn’t know, but he knows _so many_.

Still, it is true that she loves him. She tells him often, but he’s smart enough to know the difference between the love she offers him and the love she offers Saeyoung. So while she may love him, it’s not quite what he wants. 

What he wants, though, is very much out of his reach and he knows this. 

_Love_ , Saeran thinks, _is cruel_.

Often, he watches Saeyoung’s hands and imagines they are his own. They’re so similar, aren’t they? It could just as easily be his hands in her hair, on her waist, touching, stroking, mapping out her body and committing it to memory. He wonders what her skin feels like, if it’s as soft as it looks, then he hates himself for even entertaining such thoughts in the first place. 

She is not his to fantasize about, or even consider fantasizing about. 

Saeran is jealous, but quietly so. He averts his gaze when Saeyoung leans over the couch to press a quick kiss to her chapped lips before he leaves. 

He excuses himself from the room when she curls up under Saeyoung’s arm on the couch. 

He puts headphones on when he can hear Saeyoung’s name falling from her lips in the other room.

He doesn’t imagine it’s his own.

There’s something bittersweet about the way she touches him, as if he might break. And maybe he will, he doesn’t really know himself, but he knows she alone could piece him back together. 

_Love_ , Saeran thinks, _is worth suffering for_.


	2. Chapter 2

Saeran sits in the kitchen of their small apartment and watches the sky slowly but surely begin to lighten. 

She had insisted they move somewhere with a better view and Saeran had agreed. Of course, Saeyoung would do anything for her, so all it took was a simple suggestion and their things were packed and ready to go the following week.

Saeyoung had let her pick out the apartment, the space big enough to house all three of them comfortably while still remaining fairly homey. 

Saeran’s favorite spot is the kitchen. It’s where he feels most at ease and where he likes to spend the early hours of the morning when the night turns to day. 

He doesn’t sleep very much these days and doesn’t know whether to blame the nightmares or the seemingly endless worries that plague him. 

Still, the night sky is fading from black to grey and there’s a peace in that change alone.

The sky glows in soft oranges and yellows and Saeran thinks that if he could paint, he would paint sunrises. 

Slowly, the colors fade into something resembling cotton candy and Saeran’s eyelids feel heavy. He debates on making coffee, but then he’d never get to sleep. 

_Today_ , he thinks, _he will tell her_. 

He will tell her and she will gently reject him because she doesn’t have it in her heart to be brutal. 

Or perhaps (and this is just what little bit of hope he holds onto) she will love him, too.

Saeran hears her soft footfalls before he watches her walk around the corner and into the kitchen. She’s no longer surprised to find him there, cross-legged at the table. 

She greets him, still half asleep, then begins the process of brewing coffee. 

Saeran thinks she’s prettiest when she just wakes up in the morning, when her hair is still mused from sleep and she has sleep lines on her face. There’s something endearing about her half-lidded, glassy eyes and rumpled bed clothes. 

God, he loves her. 

She sets a mug down in front of him and her arms wrap around his neck. She rests her cheek against his head then sighs, fingers splaying over his chest. 

“I wish you’d get some sleep.” She murmurs. 

Yes, he does as well.

“Soon.” He agrees as he pats her hand. She grasps it and he holds his breath as she squeezes his fingers. 

Slowly, she rotates his arm until his forearm is exposed and she pushes the sleeve of his shirt up. 

Saeran avoids looking at the scars and he hears her sigh, relieved. 

Her finger traces over the pink, faded wounds and he shivers at her touch. He wishes he could tell her what she does to him, but there are lines he cannot cross.

“I wanted to.” He hears himself admit, “I almost did, but I came and sat out here instead.”

“You could have woken me up.” She reminds. 

He knows this, but he’s not a child and it was nearly four am, “It’s fine.”

“Your appointment is scheduled for three this afternoon. Are you going to get some rest before then? Or after?” She asks. She still hasn’t moved and her fingers still trace old and new scars, as if there’s something interesting about them.

“After, probably.” He says because he’s tired, but he’s not tired enough to sleep. 

He doesn’t want to sleep. 

She hums then he feels her press her lips to the top of his head and her warmth leaves him. She sits down at the table with him, her own mug in her hands and she sips at her coffee as she stares out the window. 

_The morning light_ , Saeran thinks, _makes her glow_. Her eyes hold galaxies, which may just be the only thing he likes about the night.

Saeran reaches for her hand, feels like maybe she is just enough reason to try, and sighs when her fingers thread through his. 

She looks at him, eyes wide and overflowing with kindness. 

He loves her.

He searches for the words to tell her so, feels his mouth go dry when she smiles at him, wonders what the hell he’s even thinking in the first place. 

She’s not his to love, but what if…?

“I’m in love with you.” 

The words are honest, raw and his voice is hardly a whisper, but it still sounds so loud in the early morning silence. 

She blinks then her brows furrow and Saeran wishes he could swallow those words back down. 

“Saeran,” she begins, but doesn’t seem to know how to go on. 

He shakes his head, pulls his hand back, lets it fall to his lap, and remembers the coffee she made for him. 

“I love you,” she says

“But.” Saeran doesn’t meet her gaze.

“But?” She questions.

“You love me, _but_. There’s a ‘but’ attached to that sentence. You love me, _but_ not like that. _But_ you have Saeyoung. _But_ I’m twisted and too much to handle.”

“That’s not true.” She argues.

Saeran glances at her to see her frowning, “Which part?”

“You’re not twisted, or too much to handle. I love you, but I’m _in love_ with Saeyoung. It’s a different feeling altogether, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you, Saeran.” She’s trying desperately to keep him afloat, like he knew she would because she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.

Saeran’s head turns the same moment hers does when they both hear bare feet against the tiled flooring of the kitchen. 

Saeyoung rubs tiredly at his eyes, glasses still missing. He smiles sleepily at the two of them and drags his feet to the coffee pot where he pours himself a cup.

In this moment, Saeran resents his brother. Perhaps hates him even, but he hates himself even more. He’s being completely unfair, but who can he really blame for all this hurt? 

His fingers itch and there’s only so many things he can do to sooth them, so he gets up, leaves his coffee behind and disappears to the bathroom.

Red is a passionate color. It’s the color of his hair, his favorite pair of shoes, sunrises, his love for her that will forever be unrequited, and the blood he bleeds.

Still, he doesn’t cry. 

He thinks he’s forgotten how to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lolol rating jump. Idk if this even belongs here, but it fits and I have nowhere else to put it so~  
> nsfw ahead, be warned

“Saeran,” Saeyoung called through his twin’s door, “I’ve gotta head down to the Shop for just a little while. MC might be home before me. I texted her, but she left her phone here so please let her know where I disappeared to when she gets home.” Saeran stretched lazily and waited. “Did you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” Saeran affirmed before he shoved his face back into his pillow. Saeyoung’s footsteps faded back down the hallway and then the front door opened, shut. Silence. 

It was peaceful without those two around, but moments like these were few and far between since Saeyoung usually kept Saeran glued to his side. 

It was quiet and nobody else was home. 

Their bed was empty. 

The knowledge made him sit upright and he warred with himself for several minutes before he slid from bed and cracked his door open. He paused to listen to the knocking of pipes beneath the house, the hum of the dryer, but other than that it was just him.

Excitement coursed through his veins as he tiptoed down the hallway and pushed his brother and MC’s door open. Their room was messier than his own, clothes strewn about and the bed half made. Empty cans of Dr. Pepper lined the nightstand on Saeyoung’s side of the bed. Saeran’s hand immediately slid over his chest as he closed the door behind him. He could feel his heart pounding beneath his fingers. 

The wrongness of the entire situation only urged him forward. His thumb brushed over his nipple and he caught his breath. He was already so sensitive and he’d hardly done anything. 

He _knew_ what he was doing was creepy and disgusting and wrong in so many different ways, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop and it wasn’t like this was the first time. She just did something to him. Her smile, the way she giggled at his horribly dry sense of humor, the scent of her hair. 

Saeran sat on her side of the bed and ran his hand over the comforter. He let out a shaky breath then grabbed her pillow. She’d never look at him the same if she knew what he thought of her, did while she was gone. It was shameful, but his desires outweighed his conscience so he clutched her pillow to his face and inhaled her scent as he lied on his side, hand slipping under his own shirt to tease sensitive skin. 

He was already hard, cock straining against the sweatpants he wore, but he continued to run his fingers along his skin until he was whimpering with his eyes squeezed shut. In his mind it was her. Her fingers on his skin, her breath in his ear, her body pressed up against his own. It was easy to imagine since one of her favorite things to do was run her fingers through his hair. He mapped out his own body the way he imagined she would until he could no longer take it.

“Please, please, please…” Saeran begged, voice ragged and hardly louder than a whisper. He pushed his sweats down, freeing his cock, then wrapped a tentative hand around himself and squeezed. The relief was hardly enough. His free hand gripped her pillow and he groaned into the fabric, muffling the noise as he stroked himself from base to tip, thumb circling the head twice before he set an urgent pace. 

_“Like that?”_ Her voice sounded in his head and he nodded.

_“You look good like this, Saeran.”_

_“You want it so bad, don’t you?”_

_“Are you going to come for me?”_

_“Saeran…”_

He could practically feel her breath ghosting against the back of his neck as she’d wrap her arm around his waist and shove his hand out of the way to stroke him with her own delicate fingers. She’d lick up his neck, nip at his earlobe, and kiss along his jaw as she’d murmur soft encouragements. 

Oh god, she’d… she’d sink her teeth into his shoulder and he’d cry out as he came into her hand. 

Saeran’s body trembled as he came down from his high. He blinked to find himself very much alone in their bed with her pillow still clutched tightly to his chest. He felt dirty, ashamed, but also relieved. He wiped his hand off on the sheets and pulled his sweats back up before he sat up and collected himself. 

There was no excuse he could make for himself or for them if she or Saeyoung found him like this. It was a disgusting reality turned bad habit. He didn’t know else how to sate the filthy desires he had and figured he wasn’t hurting anyone, so.

Within minutes, Saeran stripped their bed of sheets, pillowcases and the comforter and carried the load to the laundry room. He threw in their sheets first and heard the front door bang open as he was adding detergent. Nice timing. 

“Saeran?” Her soft voice called for him.

“Laundry room.” He called back, willing the heat in his cheeks to fade a little faster. She poked her head in to find him closing the lid of the washer. 

“Our sheets? You didn’t have to do that.” 

Saeran shrugged, “They were the last things that needed to go in. Hope you don’t mind.” Of course she didn’t mind. She appreciated it even and told him so repeatedly whenever she noticed he did laundry. 

If she only knew.


End file.
